Twisted Emotions (The Camorra Chronicles 2)

I had fallen asleep in Nino’s arms. And as usual, when I woke the next morning, I was curled into him just like every morning, but today felt different. Light streamed in through the gap in the curtains, and I sighed, my fingers tracing along Nino’s stomach.

“How do you feel?”

His voice startled me, even though I’d known he was awake. He always woke before me. I didn’t lift my head and pressed my cheek tightly against his chest. “Good.”

Nino’s hand stroked my arm. “No lies.”

“I’m not lying,” I said and finally looked up into his calm face. It wasn’t exactly cold. “Yesterday, I finally freed myself of him and you helped me do it. That’s all that matters.”

Nino’s fingers moved to my spine then slowly trailed higher, brushing my neck, and I stilled, waiting for the flicker of panic; there was a moment of unease, more because I waited for the panic and memories to surface than because of Nino’s touch. He eased his fingers into my curls, cupping the back of my head, and I smiled.

“See. I told the truth.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, but I wasn’t sure why. He looked almost confused, which was strange for Nino. I propped myself up on his chest and kissed him, and he readily returned the kiss and soon pulled me on top of him, his erection digging into my thigh. He pulled me down until his tip brushed against my opening, but he didn’t slip in. Instead, he kissed me and his hands massaged my ass cheeks. I allowed myself to drown in the taste of his lips, allowed the strokes of his rough fingertips to steal the last of my tiredness.

He pulled back slightly, his expression tense with desire. “I want you.”

I kissed him harder, answering him with my body and not with words. His fingers moved between my legs, slipping between my folds, and he exhaled.

“So wet,” he murmured.

I bit my lip when two of his fingers pushed into me. The sensations spread from my core into every nerve ending, and I arched up, allowing him to push deeper into me. How could I have ever thought this wouldn’t be good? Nino managed to make everything good for me.

He watched me with toe-curling intensity as I rocked my hips against his fingers. My pleasure was mounting, and I could feel myself getting closer. Nino pulled his fingers out before I could find my release, and I huffed in protest, squirming on top of him for some friction against his pelvis.

“You’ll get it,” he growled, and I shivered hearing his voice.

He gripped my hips and pulled me down until finally his tip slipped into me, and I moaned at the sensation. He pushed his hips up, sliding all the way in, and I shuddered through my release, desperately clinging to him as my walls clenched around his length.

I buried my face against his throat as he rocked his hips, driving himself into me again and again. No pain, no fear, no memories.

Only Nino’s warmth and the pleasure only he could bring me. Clinging to his shoulders, I looked into his eyes, and in my mind three words repeated themselves over and over again.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Neither of us broke eye contact as Nino slammed into me over and over again, and when his thumb flicked over my clit, I threw my head back as pleasure coursed through me. Nino growled against my throat, his tongue swiping over my pulse point. Then he bit down lightly as he released into me.

Listening to his pounding heart, I relaxed. Love: a game for fools. I wasn’t sure where I’d read the phrase, but I knew it was true.

That night Nino had his first fight since we got married. I was more nervous than he was, which wasn’t really all that difficult. But still, I was really nervous.

I put on the elegant red cocktail dress that I had bought with Nino. It wasn’t as luxurious as the other dresses, but it accentuated my curves in a way I had never allowed before. I had always been worried that displaying my body would make people blame me for what happened, that it would make them see that I wasn’t the epitome of purity I was supposed to be, but I wanted to be rid of that thinking as well.

Nino had already left an hour ago so he could prepare for his fight, and I was supposed to ride with Savio. In the last few weeks, he had avoided me, probably because he resented me for the whore-ban in the communal space in the house.

When I walked toward the main part of the house, I found Savio lounging on the sofa, texting someone on his phone. He had a strange smile on his face as he stared at his screen, but he quickly shoved his phone into his pocket when he noticed me and straightened. His dark eyes scanned me from head to toe, and despite him being two years younger than me at only seventeen, he managed to make me nervous with his attention.